by Maise, Ella
The few times I glanced up to see if she was avoiding me or was simply busy, my eyes lingered on her, causing me to lose my train of thought. She always looked so lively, so vivacious and confident. In between customers, her eyes slid my way. I held her gaze to see what she’d do, but she managed to act as if I wasn’t even there.
Holding back a smile, I waited. A few minutes turned into ten, and then finally she stood over me, waiting. I raised an eyebrow and lowered my phone.
“I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Can I get you anything?”
“Why are you always so surprised to see me?” I asked, genuinely curious to hear her answer. Her expression didn’t change, which told me she was still annoyed with me—not that I could understand her reasoning. Her leg had been hurt, so I’d helped her, end of story. Why did it matter what other people she’d probably never see again in her life or even remember if she saw them thought? I’d always been under the impression that women found it romantic when guys carried them. Apparently not this one.
“I’m not surprised anymore.” She looked over her shoulder when one of the customers let out a loud laugh then turned back to me. “Can I—”
“Were you expecting to see me tonight?” I asked, again, just out of curiosity. I leaned forward and put my phone on the table.
She licked her lips, looking toward the kitchen. I followed her gaze and saw the girl she had introduced me to before—Sally, I believed—leaning against the doorframe and talking to someone in the kitchen, most likely the other employee, the guy. My eyes back on Rose, I waited to hear her reply.
“I was. You always come,” she said, shrugging as if it was a given that I’d be there. I supposed it was now.
“Will you join me, please?”
She eyed the seat across from me but didn’t sit down. “Can I get you anything before I do that? Coffee? Tea?”
“I wouldn’t say no to coffee if you’re the one preparing it.”
She looked a little surprised then nodded and walked away, slowly. She wasn’t limping exactly, so she was probably right that it hadn’t been a serious injury, but she wasn’t walking smoothly either. Point being, her ankle was hurting. I still didn’t understand the fuss when I had only tried to help her.
Instead of getting back on my phone and finishing the response I had started, I watched her prepare coffee for both of us, discreetly glancing my way every now and then. A few minutes later, she came back with a small tray and put it on the table before sitting down across from me. Reaching forward, she put one of the mugs in front of me and held on to the other one. Between us sat a plate full of lemon bars.
I gave her a questioning look, but she was busy drinking from her mug, her eyes cast downward.
“No work today?” she asked into her coffee mug.
“I need to get back soon.”
She nodded and we fell silent.
“So, we’re not talking then,” I concluded. “I’m not planning on apologizing for trying to help you, if that’s what you’re waiting for me to do.”
“No, you’re not the kind of person who apologizes, are you?” she asked, lifting her big brown eyes up to mine. “Do you ever apologize? For anything?”
“I try not to do anything I’ll end up having to apologize for,” I answered honestly. Try was the operative word here.
She sighed and took another long sip of her coffee. “I’m not angry at you for helping me. I would’ve preferred to walk on my own, but I’m not gonna stay angry at you for carrying me. I was a little annoyed by your last comment, that’s all. Still, I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
A little amused, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Excuse me? I couldn’t hear what you said to your coffee.”
“I said—” she looked up and met my eyes. “You heard that.”
Why did I enjoy provoking her?
Why did I enjoy when she snapped back at me?
“For what?” I asked, reaching for my own coffee.
Another long sigh. “For slamming the door in your face and leaving you out there. It was immature, but in my defense you know exactly which buttons to push.”
I couldn’t exactly argue with that. “Okay. Now will you tell me which of my comments made you annoyed with me?”
“It’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
We looked at each other for a while.
“I said I’m not some women and you said, you’re telling me.”
Hiding my smile behind the mug, I kept my eyes on her, and she chose to look anywhere but me. She appeared to be both annoyed and surly at the same time, and defiant, of course—definitely not someone who was regretting slamming the door in my face.
“I meant that as a compliment, Rose.”
Her eyes came back to me.
“I…Good. That’s great then. Thank you?”
“How’s your ankle?” I asked, letting her off the hook.
“It’s better. It didn’t swell up, but I’m still taking it easy.”
At least the stiffness in her shoulders had softened a bit.
“How are we? Are we good as well?”
Her smile was as sweet as it could get.
“Yes, Jack.”
“You made lemon bars again,” I commented in the hopes of changing the conversation to safer ground when I felt myself drawn to her even more.
She shifted in her seat. “Actually, that was why I was coming in early. I promised you I’d make more of them yesterday, bring a batch back to the apartment maybe, because I like them too. I thought I’d get them done before opening up.”
“You made them for me?”
“I promised.” She shrugged and pushed her hands under her legs. “And I thought it would be a good apology for slamming the door in your face.”
I raised an eyebrow and took another sip of my coffee before reaching for one of the bars. Taking a bite, I watched her watching me.
Feeling eyes on me, I looked over Rose’s shoulder, saw Sally keeping an eye on us from her spot with interest, and missed the end of Rose’s sentence. I doubted we looked like a real couple from where she was standing, let alone a married one.
Maybe we should do something to fix that.
My focus shifted back to Rose.
“So we had our first married fight, huh? How do you feel about that?”
“The honeymoon stage is over for us, I’m afraid,” I agreed offhandedly.
She nodded. “We made quick work of that. I don’t see good things for the future of our marriage.”
“You never know. Maybe we’re one of those married couples who fight at the drop of a hat but never get a divorce. You might be stuck with me.”
“Oh, that sounds exhausting, and annoying for other people. Let’s not be like them. Let’s find better examples and try to imitate them.”
“Like who?”
Her gaze slid up to the ceiling as she tried to come up with an example. “Actually, I don’t think I know that many married couples. You?”
“I’m afraid the ones I know aren’t people I’d like to imitate,” I answered.
“Evelyn and Fred?”
“They are more like partners than anything else.”
“Oh, from the way Fred talked about her that night, I assumed they were in love.”
“They do love each other, but I think if they didn’t have a kid, they wouldn’t have much in common other than work.”
“Your parents? How about them? Are they still married? Do they have a happy marriage?”
After drinking almost half of the coffee, I put it down and leaned back. “The last people you’d like to imitate, trust me. Just look at how I turned out.”
“I don’t know. I think they did a pretty good job with you. Then how about we don’t imitate anyone and just make our own rules?”
“What kind of a couple do you want to be then?”
She thought about it some, taking sips of
her coffee every now and then. “I don’t want to be one of those couples who are in everyone’s face, being all extra touchy. We could be more subtle, you know what I mean?”
I nodded and she kept going.
“Let me give you a small example, just in case. Let’s say we’re standing and talking to someone—you can hold my hand or have your arm around my waist, just keep it simple and…maybe a small, intimate kiss. I don’t know, just…simple.”
“Any other tips you have for me?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“It wasn’t a tip, exactly. You asked what kind of couple I wanted us to be, so I’m just saying. I like that kind of couple.”
“What else?”
“I want to be the kind of couple that has traditions. Like…maybe Mondays are pizza nights. Thursday is pasta day. That type of thing.”
“That’s it?”
“Okay, give me a minute. I’m going to Google this and see what we’re working with. Let me get my phone.”
Before I could stop her, she got up and ran to the kitchen. Her movements were a little wobbly and she tried to tiptoe on her left foot, but in essence it would be called running. She waved Sally off when she looked alarmed, and her return was calmer, no running this time.
Puffing out a breath, she took her seat again and focused on the screen of her phone. “Okay, let me see…okay, there are more formal types like traditional, disengaged, cohesive, pursuer, distant—we won’t be that. I hate those types. Operatic…heated fighting followed by passionate lovemaking.” Her head snapped up and she stole a glance at me then quickly focused back on her phone. “Nope. Romantic couple—that doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Okay, let me try to find something more informal…”
I drained the rest of my coffee.
“Okay. Showoffs…basically PDA—this is what I meant. I don’t like being all extra. Also, I don’t see you as a PDA person,” she mumbled. “Space-giving couple—I guess we’re like that? Why are they married couple…we can’t be this. That is not me. Even if this is fake, I don’t want to be like that. If we’re playing a part, let’s do it right.”
“That would be my parents.”
Her head lifted again. “Really?”
I nodded.
“Yikes. Okay, what else…what else…honeymoon couple. Dammit, we just fought, so that doesn’t work for us. Next, whining couple—nope. Always together couple…I mean…” She looked at me under her lashes, but neither one of us made a comment. “The rest is crap.” She put her phone down. “Anything specific you want to be?”
“Let’s stick with doing whatever needs to be done at the moment.”
“That’s leaving it very open to interpretation.”
I ran my hand over my face. “How about just being ourselves and acting natural?”
“You’re loads of fun. Being ourselves individually isn’t the problem. How to be ourselves as a couple—that’s the hard thing.”
“What? Do you want to practice playing pretend?” She looked at me weirdly but didn’t respond. I changed tactics, because playing pretend wouldn’t be a good idea at all. Not with how things were going. This was fake and temporary. Period. “Am I allowed to ask about your relationship with your ex-fiancé? What kind of a couple were you? Why did you break up?”
She looked taken back but at least responded. “Where did that come from?”
“I’m curious.”
“You’re never curious.”
“Today, it seems I am.”
Looking all kinds of uncomfortable, she sighed. “We weren’t a specific type of couple, I guess. We did our own thing. Sometimes he was into PDA even when I wasn’t and it would bug me off, but other than that it was an easy relationship. Looking back at it now maybe it was too easy. And we just… God, I hate this. I was shocked when he ended things. Came out of nowhere, he dumped me in a text. I couldn’t believe I was so wrong about him. Couldn’t believe he didn’t want to marry me anymore. Called him for days, trying to get in touch. Never heard back. Went to his apartment and his neighbor said he’d moved out. Just like that, he just disappeared.” She lifted a shoulder and then let it drop down.
“I lost it there for a few days. Then sadness gave way to anger. I gave myself permission to cry and curse him for a week, but anyone who breaks up with me via text is not worth crying for. I stopped crying on day four. I don’t have the luxury of pining after someone who doesn’t want me. He had this way of making me feel less than without me realizing he was doing it. It was weird. I definitely thought he was the one for me, up until he broke up with me, but when he wasn’t around anymore, the rose-colored glasses came off pretty quickly. He was really good at getting me to say yes to everything even when I didn’t want to. Everyone loved him, especially Gary.”
“I thought you didn’t see Gary much.”
“I didn’t, but Joshua really wanted to meet him so I kinda had to… He knew exactly what to say to get you to like him, and as for being my fiancé…he did ask me to marry him, but he didn’t give me a ring or anything like that, so now that I’m thinking about it, maybe he never meant to go through with it anyway? Who knows.”
“What about now? Do you feel something for him now?”
She frowned. “Of course not. Sometimes all you need is a little time away to look at things with a new perspective. Joshua and I seemed like a great idea on paper, but in reality I don’t think we would’ve worked in the long run. There wasn’t much of a spark to keep it going, I think. I’m not sad it’s over. Anyway…Jack, why did you say you came here again?”
I let the Joshua topic go.
This was fake. This was temporary.
“I wanted to see if you needed anything. And to see if you were okay.”
“That’s…really sweet of you, Jack.”
Before I could say something, the door behind me opened, cold air rushing inside as the bell rang, a soft welcoming chime for the new customers.
I looked over my shoulder to see four women still admiring the flowers as Rose got to her feet. The smile I was getting too familiar with was already plastered on her lips and it was not just for me anymore.
“I’ll be right back.” Her mind was obviously focused on the newcomers as they slowly walked forward, their curious eyes taking everything in.
She turned toward the group of customers.
“Welcome,” Rose said when the chatty women were finally near her. My eyes dropped to her lips as her smile widened when the women smiled back and said hello.
“If you have work to do, I should leave. I have a packed afternoon and evening,” I commented, distracted.
Her gaze flitted back to me. “You’re not coming tonight? You don’t have to, of course, but I—”
“I pushed back a meeting to be able to come here now, so I’m going to have to stay late to catch up with my calls after that ends. I’ll send Raymond. You think you’ll be able to make it back to the apartment in one piece?”
“Oh, that’s funny, Mr. Hawthorne. I—”
“Rose!” Sally called out, catching her attention.
Instead of going behind the counter to work next to Sally, Rose stayed next to the customers, chatting with them and pointing at the food under the glass domes. I waited for a few minutes, feeling impatient; waiting wasn’t my strong suit. Eventually, after a long discussion and several changed decisions, everyone had given their orders. I ate another of the lemon bars Rose had baked herself and rose from my seat. Reaching for my wallet in my back pocket, I took out some cash. She didn’t notice me until I was standing right next to her.
“Oh, Jack, I’ll be right—”
Everyone’s eyes were on us, especially Sally’s, so I tried to be careful. “I need to leave.” I held out a hundred-dollar bill to Sally and instead of being a good employee and taking it from me before Rose could see, her gaze jumped from me to Rose.
“Ummm…Rose,” she mumbled, causing Rose to take her eyes from me and glance at her and then at the money I was holding.
“What’s that for?” Rose asked, fully facing me.
I sighed and, after giving Sally a cold look, met Rose’s eyes.
“Let’s not do this again. Take it,” I ordered, holding it out to her.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Jack Hawthorne,” she said slowly, and my lips twitched involuntarily. I could imagine she fully meant what she said. I had no doubt she could hurt me.
“I need to leave,” I repeated. Then, thinking it would simply be a good distraction, a good show for her employee and even sort of a practice for the charity event we’d be attending, I slid my arm around her waist. Her eyes were slightly widened in alarm, her entire body stiff, but at least she wasn’t jumpy like she had been at our first outing. Slowly her body relaxed, and she arched her back so she could look up at me with those big eyes.
A simple and meaningless touch would have to be acted out more naturally at one point in our fake marriage, almost as if touching her or kissing her in front of other people would become second nature. Practice was good.
“Thank you for the coffee. It’s always the best,” I murmured, having trouble looking away. Then I leaned down and hesitated for a heartbeat before I pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead as she was still looking up at me in confusion. That spot felt like it was the most harmless one and I took my time, breathing in her sweet and fresh scent. When I pulled back, one of her hands was resting against my chest, the other one clutching my arm. Her chest rising and falling, she blinked up at me.
Taking her hand that had ended up on my chest, I opened her fingers, my fingertip catching on her wedding ring. Why did such a simple and, in our situation, meaningless thing give me so much pleasure to see? She wasn’t mine, but the idea of it…the possibility… I placed the money on her still red palm before gently closing her fingers around the bill. Surprisingly, she didn’t say a word, just kept staring up at me as if she was lost. Was she just as affected as I was by our pretending?